Zhílin’s heart sank.

“What are you shouting for? The Tartar is still near; he’ll have heard you!” And he thought to himself, “He is really quite done up. What am I to do with him? It won’t do to desert a comrade.”

“Well, then, get up, and climb up on my back. I’ll carry you if you really can’t walk.”

He helped Kostílin up, and put his arms under his thighs. Then he went out on to the path, carrying him.

“Only, for the love of heaven,” said Zhílin, “don’t throttle me with your hands! Hold on to my shoulders.”

Zhílin found his load heavy; his feet, too, were bleeding, and he was tired out. Now and then he stooped to balance Kostílin better, jerking him up so that he should sit higher, and then went on again.